The Demon and the Goliath
by XxReddShadowxX
Summary: Maybe two 'polar opposites' weren't as different as they though they were? Some Shizaya/T for language, violence, and yaoi
1. Prolouge

**A/N: I wrote this because I was bored, eating Lucky Charms straight out of the box for my single meal of the day at four in the morning, and the pairing of Shizuo and Vorona was really bumming out my Shizaya mood... (I apologize to anyone who ships them though... I SAID I'M SORRY, PLEASE DON'T HIT ME) Yo, just kidding, do whatever the heck you want, you can't kill what's already dead.  
**

**I'm so sorry.**

**DISCLAIMER: Why would I write fanfiction for an original story if I wrote it in the first place? Just- no.**

* * *

"You can't _kill_ what you can't _catch_, Shizu-chan~!"

For the millionth time that day, a perfectly functional vending machine was shot through the air, meeting it's cruel fate and crashing down into a field of shattered concrete and twisted road signs, all mangled beyond recognition. This may seem supernatural to anyone not living in Ikebukuro, but it was a common- no, a daily event that occurred almost inevitably every single day.

A lithe, raven-haired man in dark clothing and a fur trimmed coat sprinted and leaped with remarkable agility and grace throughout the city, teasingly throwing taunts (as well as a wide array of knives, kunai, and flickblades) towards a larger bleach-blond man, donning purple-tinted glasses and a bartender uniform who seemed to be set on destroying his target completely. With monstrous strength, he violently tore inanimate and once stationary objects out of the ground, shouting enraged profanities and threats towards his prey. This was the usual. This was expected.

This was the ongoing war between Orihara Izaya the Demon and Heiwajima Shizuo the Goliath.

Red-brown eyes and pale skin flashed almost invisibly through the city, a mere blur being relentlessly pursued by a smear of honey colored eyes and a black and white suit in the backdrop of flashing lights in the city at night. That's what their relationship was to the eyes of anyone and everyone; mutual, yet unholy hatred towards the other, lining itself furiously in a row of insults and violence exchanged through blatant loathe. It was honestly there, the intense abhorring for one another pulsating through every fiber of their pure being, and it was exhilarating. This was how both parties kept it, how they were used to. It was a cycle of unforgiving and never-ending odium.

It was utter perfection.

"_I-ZA-YA-KUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNN!_"

Observing every detail was impossible, for the two were moving at such a speed where they were just a haze of color flying through the air. However, for the two of them- and the two of them only- could see every detail flawlessly.

One threw knives into the air.

The other caught them in his mouth, shattering them with his teeth alone.

Profanities were shouted.

Machines exploded.

Threats were screamed.

Buildings and billboards were leaped over.

More knives were thrown.

It was an eternal circle of actions that they both knew just how to react to. It was unbroken, but endlessly kept alive by both parties.

"Get out of my sight, I hate you, flea! Stay out of Ikebukuro!"

"I love humans, but that doesn't mean I don't hate you, Shizu-chan~!"

They hated each other so much, so why did they keep coming back to each other? Why did any of this happen? How did any of this start? Why do they not stop? No one knew the answers to any of these questions, but we do know that it would take a lot to do so.

This is the story of Orihara Izaya and Shizuo Heiwajima. The raven and the blond. The bodyguard and the information-broker.

The Demon and the Goliath.

* * *

**Alright, so I think I may continue this into a longer story with multiple chapters and the like, so if you enjoyed it, be sure to keep reading.  
**

**(All this Shizaya... What have I gotten myself into, now?)**

**By the way, the term 'Goliath' refers to any being that is abnormally large and powerful.**

**-XxReddShadowxX**


	2. The Life of a Demon

**Okay, so I was going to make this chapter and the next into the same one, but I decided that I should make one chapter per both characters, I guess. I'm writing in their perspectives for their individual chapters, but the rest is basically third person omniscient. Writing for Izaya first, since he's the one I always RP as, and even though I love Shizuo, I find myself to be much, much more like him than the other.  
**

* * *

I am Orihara Izaya...

It was always like this.

I was alone.

Nobody liked me, nobody loved me._  
_

I remember when I was only eight years old and in grade school. Every single day was basically the same, week days were never good, and only got worse. I would go to school, and I was that weird kid with no friends. Nobody wanted to be my friend. At that age, I didn't understand why or even the mere concept of friendship. I kept to myself because it was what came naturally. It wasn't until that one day that I understood who I was, or who I needed to be.

Everyone in my class was on the playground, and I was hiding comfortably away in a tube slide that had broken years ago. This was my hideout, my sanctuary. It was where no one could bully me or insult me, it was the one place where I could be truly alone and to myself. Every day I came here, bringing my one truly valued possession; a small journal in which I drew, and occasionally wrote.

"Hello there." A high-pitched voice echoed through the slide. I looked up, shocked.

"H-hi..." I mumbled back timidly.

Looking up was a girl, about my age and in my class. She was short, yet only a bit more so than I, and dressed in the standard school uniform with what I supposed were pretty, yet very unmemorable features. She was smiling and waving. She told me her name, but I wasn't listening very much and never really got it. I was just surprised that someone was actually talking to me, much less a girl.

"So what's your name?" The girl said. I stared blankly.

"I-I'm Izaya." I stuttered cautiously. "Orihara Izaya."

Giggling- most likely at my clumsiness- she smiled at me and waved again. I wasn't used to acts of kindness, and I didn't think that I ever would be.

"Well, hello then Izaya." She smiled again.

This went on for almost a week, and though I never did bother to remember her name, she kept coming back to say hello to me and have a conversation. I was an idiot for ever letting myself believe that she was my friend, much less an acquaintance of mine. I was naive. However, I didn't realize it until a few days afterwards.

I was waiting inside of the slide, just like any usual day, my notebook and a mechanical pencil in hand. It was raining slightly, and I was trying to draw a picture of the girl to give to her for being so kind to me, but I could never properly remember her facial features. Glaring at a crack in the roof of the slide, I watched with a garnet-eyed stare as stray rain water leaked through an fell in rivulets down the body of the slide in an idle spiral.

Suddenly, I felt a hard bump on the edge ceiling of the slide, hard enough to knock my paper and pen out of my hands and onto the wet dirt below. Reaching down haphazardly, desperately hoping that my notebook could be saved, a random hand shot out and yanked me down the slide, into the mud.

"Ha, did you see that!" I heard the voice, the voice of a boy most likely, laugh. More laughter erupting from around him proved that he had friends with him.

I sat still, clutching my notebook to my chest and hoping that he wouldn't notice it. He glared at me.

"What do you have here, huh?" He snatched it away from me roughly, still laughing with his group of five or six comrades. He flipped through it, smearing mud all over it and tearing pages out like it was nothing.

"This your diary?" He asked. I shook my head, nearly paralyzed and unable to speak. He looked mad. "Liar."

I whimpered, standing up slowly and scampering back a few steps. I loved that journal, and it was the one place I felt home. The one place I could feel at home. My parents didn't want anything to do with me once they realized that I wasn't popular or incredibly smart. They neglected me, barely giving me enough to live off of. That's why they had Mairu and Kururi, who were just born, so that they could scrape success off of another child.

"Writing is stupid, you must be freaking girly or somethin'." The boy spat, bringing me back to reality. He threw the book at me, using his friends to gang up on me furiously, but all that I worried about what my poor journal, soaking in many pieces in the mud. They punched, kicked, and beat me until I was I useless, bruised and bloody heap on the filthy ground. The tiny droplets of rain felt more like bullets from a fully armed brigade of soldiers on my pale skin. That was when I cried for the first time in ages.

I never did see that girl again.

* * *

I remembered when I was thirteen years old and in middle school. The days were different, but still never good. My days were more stressful, and though I did manage to make it through elementary without too many more difficulties, or nothing that I couldn't handle alone. I had be acquainted with another young boy, my age with onyx eyes, black hair and glasses, but I didn't know him all the well at the time. This was also when the beatings started.

My sisters Mairu and Kururi never did socialize much with me, even if they were still learning to talk. They were basically trained to avoid association with me at all costs. On the last day or elementary, we were given a report of our grades throughout the year, our physical and mental standards. My grades were all standard As, as my studying habits were picked up in the lack of social activity that I had. However, there was a grade handed out by a few of the counselors at my academy on levels of character traits and socialization. That was my downfall, what struck my parent's last nerves.

My mother was the one who struck me first, and it stung, my face turning a pinkish purple. She said that she was disappointed, that she expected more of me. I only blinked at her, shocked. She had hit me.

"You are a _disappointment_, Orihara Izaya! You don't deserve the care you want and will never have, you are a greedy little brat! You don't even deserve to live under the name Orihara! You are a disgrace, and you will never amount to anything, don't let anyone tell you differently!" She paused her shouting, looking disgusted, and spitting angrily on my bruised face. "Do you understand!?" I whimpered. She struck me again in the same place.

"Y-yes mother!" I stuttered, salty tears stinging my eyes. She squinted at me.

"No, I don't think you do." Retrieving a belt from her bedroom floor, she glared at me, face distorted into an ugly scowl. "You don't understand anything, you protozoan."

A month later, our father left us, disappearing without a trace. My mother blamed me, saying that I'd ruined everything. That I was a disgrace, a biological mishap.

I went to bed on the stone floor of our basement that night, relocating nothing but an old desk, a pile black and red clothing, a nearly broken orange flip-phone, an empty water bottle, a leaking washing and drying machine, and a filthy floor-mat to greet me bleeding back, my entire body tinted a sickeningly purple hue.

I knew that I had to try harder, and honing my mind was easy; I could understand, calculate, analyze and basically read anything or anyone that was given to me. My problem was that I couldn't relate to human emotion, the thing that could only come naturally to anyone. Anyone except for me.

This was the first night I prayed to God.

My family was raised atheist, and I honestly was, but ever since I'd heard of a deity that could listen to and solve out problems, I was intrigued and set on my ways to fix my life and my self.

"G-god..." My entire frame was shaking as I knelt onto the rancid floor. "I have never asked anything of you before, but I would only like to ask of you one thing now... Please help me."

I felt my crimson eyes sting with tears, ribbons of transparent silver streaming down my face, washing away dust and dried blood. Overwhelming emotions took over my body as I began to tremble pathetically.

"I-I don't want to die t-this way... I'm a-all alone and I d-don't want to s-s-stay like t-this..." I choked on my own words as if they were the blood that stained my hands when I wiped away rivulets of sadness from the porcelain skin on my body. "I d-don't understand w-why I'm like th-this..."

"Why did you do this to me!?" I shrieked, knowing that nobody would answer by now. The echo of my scream reverberated off the walls of the small room, the single light-bulb hanging from the ceiling shaking slightly.

"Why?" I muttered, drifting off into a restless sleep.

He never did answer any of my questions.

* * *

I remembered when I was sixteen and in high school. My days had, again, only gotten worse by then, the beatings proceeding at a harsher and more constant pace. I learned to accept that fact that I would never be accepted my my family or others, and at first I wasn't sure how to react. Because of that, I simply didn't react at all.

The boy that I'd met in middle school's name was Shinra Kishitani. He looked about the same as in middle school, with neck-length black hair and gray eyes covered with spectacles. Shinra was a doctor-to-be, and he was always interested in the way human bodies worked. In a way, we were similar.

Throughout the time I'd been studying to further my education, I'd also gotten curiouser about the subject of human emotions. At first, I didn't know how it felt or how it was supposed to happen. I only wanted to know all of them, to see what would happen under certain circumstances. I suppose after a while that what I secretly yearned for was to feel these emotions for myself, but when I realized that I couldn't bring myself to do so, I hid that away and disguised it as mere scientific curiosity. That evolved into hobby, which turned into an obsession. That obsession to me was viewed as love.

I viewed it as my undeniable love for all of humanity, as my love for humans.

Trailing behind Shinra quietly, I was skipping up onto the high school soccer field. Leaning up against a bike rack, I looked up at the sky, tracing the clouds idly with my long, pale index finger, decorated with a single silver band.

"Is there a reason you brought me here, Shinra?" I asked nonchalantly. He nodded, smiling, and gesturing towards the field. That was when I saw him.

"You bastaaaaaaaards!" A tall, exceptionally good-looking bleach blond was running across the field, chasing down the entire soccer team still clad in his blue school uniform. Before I could predict what he would do, he leaped right in front of them, ripping the gigantic soccer goal straight out of the ground and throwing it with monstrous strength at the athletes. Before I knew what I would even do, I started clapping, almost immediately capturing his attention as much as he captivated mine.

"Well, well, what do we have here...?" I mumbled to myself under my breath, nearly unconsciously. He glared at me.

"Ah, Shizuo-san, I'd like to introduce you to Orihara Izaya." Shinra smiled, gesturing towards me happily. "You guys should be friends; Izaya-san is a really good guy!" He paused. "Well, actually he's sort of a good guy..." Again, he paused, facial features etched with sudden uncertainty. "Uh, actually, he's not really a good guy at all, huh...?"

I rolled my eyes, plastering a signature and willingly habitual cherry-red smirk on my naturally pale face.

"Well, that wasn't very nice, Shinra-kun, wouldn't you agree?" I bluntly said. I was about to continue on with a feral, yet seemingly innocent taunt when the fake blond- now known as Shizuo- spoke his first four words to me, words that stained my view and him, and always would, for the rest of my life.

"You piss me off." He growled.

But Shizu-chan was never good at making first impressions, ne?


	3. The Life of a Goliath

**So I was pretty happy with the Izaya chapter, so here is the Shizuo chapter to come after it. It's pretty much just a stalling break in the story so that I can figure out what I should do with it, I guess. Any ideas that you guys may have are much appreciated through PMs or reviews, and I hope that you _will_ use the button at the bottom of the screen that allows you to do so. I hope, which doesn't mean that it is mandatory, but widely appreciated. I'd like to first say that I realize that these dates or events aren't exact, and they may be a tad OOC, but it's called 'fanfiction' for a reason.**

**But you've had enough of my rambling, ne? Enjoy~!**

* * *

I am Heiwajima Shizuo.

It was always like this.

I was alone.

Nobody liked me, nobody loved me.

I remember when I was only eight years old and in grade school. I actually thought that school was a place where I would be able to fit in, but I was terribly wrong. Yeah, my family loved me, supposedly, but I could never honestly return what I believed that they felt for me, because I was afraid that I could only hurt them more. I was an outcast, someone who just didn't belong. I wanted to have friendship, but it was something I just couldn't grasp. I had no clue as to who or what I was supposed to become. Not until I began to understand, on that one day.

I was sitting in class, my hand supporting my chin and my face twinged in chagrin and disinterest. My desk was cold, and it felt good against my elbow. Running a free hand indolently through my deep, brown hair, I sighed in an exasperated manner. Closing my eyes slowly, I tuned out the teacher's droning, remaining unmoved, even when the metallic ring of the bell disturbed my rest. I twirled a thin, nubby pencil in one of my hands.

"H-hi, are you Heiwajima Shizuo?" A small, girlish voice asked me, disturbing me even more.

"What about it?" I grunted, eyes still shut.

"I-I'm new to this class," She mumbled, "N-nice to m-meet you. I've heard about you, Shizuo-san."

What she's probably heard about me was that I was out of control, that I practically destroyed everything I put my hands on. She probably heard that I was crazy, and I only knew how to hurt people. She probably-

My pencil snapped clean in half, splintering into tiny pieces and scattering among my desk and hand.

"Eep-!" The girl jumped, and my eyes shot open quickly.

Faintly, I heard laughing from the back of the classroom, and turned my neck a bit to catch a brief glance at them. I clenched my fist again, my jaw tightening at the sight of a cluster of other boys.

"So the little jerk likes to hurt girls, huh?" One of them in the front scoffed, "Probably the only kind of person can actually hurt, right?"

If only they knew how incorrect that statement actually was.

Without even thinking, I gripped the corners of my desk, cracking the surface, and sending it flying through the air, where it promptly lodged itself in the back chalkboard. Everyone scattered, faces aghast, attempting to scramble to safety whereas I was grasping my shattered arm with my other hand. I suppose that it was a bad idea to throw it, yes, but it can't be a bad idea if it wasn't even an idea, just a simple action.

Sliding my back down the side of the wall, I lingered there, frustrated. I has destroyed something else. I has scared more people. I had not only hurt them, but myself in the process of my own stupid anger. Now, I only had another mental scar to get over, as well as another broken limb.

You know, I don't remember seeing that girl again after that day.

* * *

I remember when I was thirteen and in middle school. I was never really good at learning or a very studious person, so my grades were average, and Cs to Bs at the most. Though I was glad that my parents said that they were okay with it, and told me that it was fine as long as I was trying my best, I felt like I was disappointing them. Nevertheless, I chose to think these things through in silence, remaining hidden under a facade that I put into play.

My younger brother, Kasuka, was born not to long before, and was only a few years younger than me. We were close, yes, but because of this, I tried to to interact with him too much. After that one time about a year before, when I had attempted to attack him with a refrigerator (of course, breaking a part of my body in the process) I didn't want to ever hurt something that was so important to me. Knowing this, I settled with knowing that I could protect him from afar, and resting assured that I would never bring any harm to him this way.

Basically, all I did was linger about the house, going to school and not socially interact in any way or form whatsoever, and kept to myself so that I wouldn't hurt anyone. It worked, mostly, excluding the few times that I had lost it by mistake and hurt myself and other people. Nevertheless, I was okay with how I was doing up until that one day.

Sighing, I walked down the street, Kasuka silent and emotionless beside me, and one of my arms in a sling across my chest. Grasping my backpack silently, I walked without speaking on a sidewalk hidden between the corners of shops along the streets of Ikebukuro.

"Why hello there, young men." I heard a sweet voice call to us from one of the shops. I turned cautiously to see a tall woman standing near us from a shop that Kasuka and I had been walking by. She was holding a bag in her hand and smiling politely at us.

"What did you do to your arm?" She asked sympathetically, leaning over slightly to look at me.

"I... I hurt it..." I mumbled stupidly, cursing myself mentally for such a stupid answer. She smiled, reaching into her bag and pulling out two bottles of milk.

"You need more calcium; then your bones will be stronger and you won't have to worry about hurting yourself as much anymore." She smiled sweetly again, handing the bottles to us. We accepted them wearily.

"T-thank you ma'am..." I bowed, waving goodbye and continuing my journey with my brother to school. She waved back, ducking back into her shop and out of sight.

We came back every day we passed her shop after that day. I liked knowing someone who I could talk to so briefly without hurting them in any way. I began to love milk, and I began to love that woman, knowing that she didn't know what burden had been wrought upon me. However, there came one day when that all changed.

Walking with Kasuka near the shop that morning, I looked in and noticed a couple of muscular figures in the shop, talking to the woman. I supposed that they were only doing business and chatting, before one of them shoved her and the other picked her up by her shoulders. She looked scared, and that was when I snapped.

The look on her face then was the look I was given by everyone, almost everyday of my life. It was fear. Terror. An expression of sheer and utter horror that they were going to get hurt or even killed because of one person. I didn't want to feel that way, nor did I want anyone else to ever have to feel that way. I hate violence, and I never liked to resort to it, even if it was only on instinct.

Dropping my bag and sprinting into the shop, I did what my instinct made me do, and that ended up being hurting people. I hurt those two men, and I basically destroyed the shop, but I did the one thing that I never wanted to do;

I hurt the woman who was nice to me, and who didn't know that I was created this way.

Only a few weeks later, I walked past the nearly abandoned shop, and I saw her, I saw the woman. Her arm was in a splint and she was bruised all over, but she didn't seem to notice me at first. Then she turned, and I saw the other expression that I was so used to seeing in others; hatred and disappointment.

I ran, never once looking back.

I find it strange that I never seemed to walk by the shop ever again.

* * *

I remember when I was sixteen and in high school. My grades were consistently terrible, but enough to get me through to the next grade. Not but a few years ago, I had decided to dye my hair blond. Not a lot of people understood it, and lots of them though that I did it because I was stupid (hence 'dumb blond') but that wasn't why. I dyed after the incident with the shop, as a silent promise to myself that I would try to be a better, less violent person as I got older.

It didn't really help all that much, but hey, a guy can try, right?

Because I didn't feel like it was necessary to interact with anyone after that day, I had decided to- again- keep to myself as best as I could. That was when I met Kishitani Shinra, a doctor-to-be. Apparently, he was very interested in my 'supernatural abilities' as he called them. Several times, he'd asked me if he could take tests on me, and every time I had declined. Nevertheless, it felt nice to have company and I tried as best I could not to hurt him, seeing as he was loyal and a good friend to me.

That one day, I had just gotten out of school when I heard some punks from our school's soccer team pointing at me and talking quietly. Even if it could've just been a misunderstanding, I didn't care. Scowling, I stomped over there, receiving annoyed looks from the athletes. They scoffed, continuing to insult me even though I didn't care. I snapped, roaring and chasing them across the field. They ran, and I ripped a soccer goal straight out of the ground to pound them with it.

Suddenly, I heard clapping.

"Well well, what do we have here?" A voice as smooth as silk asked. I didn't know what it was about it, but it was so confident and smug that it yanked a nerve in my mind as soon as I heard it. I turned, narrowing my eyes in anger at the source of the voice, who seemed to be another student here.

A pale, rather good-looking raven haired man smirked at me, eyes and lips a gorgeous red. He was beautiful... and yet, I hated everything about him. Just his face made my blood boil with anger, and I didn't even know who he was yet.

"Ah, Shizuo-san, I'd like to introduce you to Orihara Izaya." Shinra said, gesturing towards the stranger, now known as Izaya. He begin to drone on about the man, but I was focused on staring him down furiously, tuning out the onyx-eyed man's rant.

"-uy at all, huh?" He finished, as I caught Izaya fake-pouting and responding to my friend, who he already seemed to know. Just like before, I focused solely on the sound of his voice, and not at all what he was saying at that time. It was so... perfect, so much that I wanted to tear its owner to shreds.

He looked at me, flawless cherry-red lips pulled into a malicious smirk as his porcelain face glimmered in the sunlight. That was when I said my first words to him, four words that would affect the relationship that we shared forever.

"You piss me off." I grunted, watching his evil grin grow just a tad bigger.

But I was never really good at talking to people, now was I?


	4. Ideal Waste of Time

**Thanks to all the people who reviewed; every single review made me feel nice. I guess they do have pretty angst-based backgrounds, huh? Well, thanks again, anyways.  
**

**Oh, and by the way, this chapter was inspired by the song Ideal Waste of Time by one of my favorite bands of all time called Treble Charger because I was listening to it or something at the time.**

* * *

They were fighting, and anyone could tell you that they really weren't surprised at all.

Street signs were- once again- littered across the streets and sidewalks, smashed and mutilated in every way possible. Over the common city noise, expletives and promises of inappropriately unrepeatable actions, those of the violent sort, were echoing through the air. The sun was setting calmly in the sky, very ironic for the type of setting at the time, and soft hues of orange and a dim yellow hovered about on the horizon.

"How many times have I fucking told you to stay out of Ikebukuro, flea?" Shizuo shouted, launching yet another metal projectile through the sky and towards the said flea.

"Aw, but that would be no fun," Izaya pouted, running backwards and smiling innocently at the larger man. "I love how we get to see each other every single day so that we can play together!"

"Tch," The bodyguard muttered underneath his breath. "So I finally figured out that this idiot this this is just some stupid game, huh?"

Though the thought may have crossed his mind once or twice before, Shizuo supposed that he should have probably seen this sooner; Izaya thought that this world was just a little board game set to amuse some sick bastard with the soul of a child, that is- he thought- if Izaya actually had a soul. He probably should have guessed that Izaya viewed himself as a god to all his little humans, as he had said many times before, or that Shizuo was just a chess piece that he could save if he just felt like doing so.

Halting mid-step, the raven flipped backwards, catching the fake-blond off guard, and causing him to drop whatever he was about to throw. Tipping his face upwards so that the two were basically breathing the same air, Izaya smirked. Placing two light hands on the taller man's chest, one hand fondling his black bow-tie absently, he fluttered his eyelashes flirtatious.

The blond froze, remaining still at such a position that would put a statue to shame.

"After all, wouldn't you _love_ to _play_ with me, Shizu-chan~" Izaya purred, his voice dripping with allure, "I'll even _let_ you _have_ me."

Not only his tone, but his words were so suggestive, it sent a subdued shiver down Shizuo's spine. The raven just adored pushing every single button he found on his rival until he just paused like a glitching piece of machinery, didn't he? If only he knew what he was really bringing onto himself. Honestly, Shizuo didn't know exactly what Izaya had in mind, but he knew that it wasn't worth pestering the older man, most likely. He thought it was just a waste of time, frankly.

But if it was, it appeared to be his _ideal_ waste of time to bother the other for every second that he could.

Or maybe, Izaya just liked to survey and pick off all of the little things of Shizuo's that he found interesting?

"W-what are you doing?" Shizuo asked, uncertainly, face dusted with a light blush. Though he found this startling, deep inside, he didn't really have any desire to push Izaya off and continue attempting to kill him again like he had never invaded his space like this.

Besides, everyone knew that they were enemies, at least according to Shizuo. He had heard about the other telling his own version of things way back when no one knew much about them and their 'special' relationship. No matter, the blond couldn't really care any less about what the raven said, as long as he knew the truth and no one bothered him about it. He wasn't really one to complain, but if he had to use a single and brief word to describe Izaya, he would probably say something around the lines of 'not sane in the least bit'.

And he considered limiting his vocabulary to _that_ would be seen as kind and flattering to the other.

"Don't you want to take me, though, _Shizuo~_?" Izaya asked again. This startled Shizuo, seeing as though he had never imagined the other using that name on him- his real name- before now, and he definitely would not have imagined it being said so seductively.

Now this was another thing that Shizuo never understood; why does Izaya enjoy walking over him just for fun?

He didn't know, but perhaps supposed that he could understand everything that was being put onto him, save for how much he seemed to suffer because of it. Not from the pain, not from the insults, not from the wounds, but moments like this one. Moments where the other would just randomly decide that it was a great idea to spontaneously seduce him, not that Shizuo would admit that it might have actually been working, or that he actually might be enjoying-

Whoa there, that was a thought he didn't exactly wish to finish.

"N-no!" He shouted, "Why would I ever-?"

Before he could finish exacting his verbal excuse for inevitable denial, his eyes widened to find a pair of cherry-red lips pressed up against his own. Not only were these very surprising, but as a sudden wave of revelation hit him, they seemed to be the same one he had wished to be devouring for the entire time that he knew this man. Perhaps that was why his blood boiled with anger every time he saw him? Maybe it was just because he wanted something he didn't think was his to take.

But now it was, wasn't it?

Pushing back with more force, Shizuo grabbed the smaller man by the shoulders, pinning him to the wall of a nearby alley near the street in which they had been residing. Taking the moment of breathlessness that the shorter man had, Shizuo took the opportunity to swipe his tongue in between Izaya's lips and probe around with more coverage. Running his tongue around the warm cavern, he pushed them both up against the damp brick of the wall, pressing their bodies against each others and causing scorching friction between the two. Drawing moans and gasps out of the raven wasn't the only pleasure the bodyguard was getting, due to two smaller hands winding up his white button-up shirt and clenching his chest desperately. He would have laughed, actually, if it weren't for the fact that his mouth was rather occupied at the time.

Shizuo smirked, running a string of kisses down the lithe man's jaw, leading down his neck and to his collarbone where he bit down. Nipping and licking around his shoulders and neck, drawing out more pleased sounds from both, the fake-blond marked the other as he felt he needed, which seemed to be a lot.

Nevertheless, the nagging feeling that he was doing something wrong had faded away completely by then. So what if he had to live with his doubts about this? Or if he just needed to live with what he knew he didn't have yet? Whatever he didn't have, or whatever he lost would just be lost again. Well, so be it.

What's a little fire in all this flame anyways?

Even if he didn't know what the other had in mind, Shizuo- and the trail of bite marks he'd left in his wake- didn't really care anymore. Maybe this was a waste of time for both of them, but it was their ideal waste of time, and they guessed that was the only real thing that mattered right then. Well really, it wasn't a waster of time for Shizuo, but he bet that the other could be doing a million other things then, like trolling someone on the internet or stealing some candy from small children or the homeless, but that didn't matter either.

Anyways, if there was something to be thinking about, it would be thought about tomorrow, seeing as there was an impatient little information-broker beneath the bodyguard attempting to finish what they'd started, and the distance to travel from the alleyway to Shizuo's apartment's bedroom seemed to be getting further every second.

They couldn't have that though, now could they?

* * *

**I'm done here; I'm leaving to go do something that may or may not be productive in any way.  
**


	5. Unwell

**So, if the last chapter appeared to be any indication of beginning of shipping, then- well, yeah. You get it. Thank you to all of the amazing readers and reviewers and stuff; you guys are pretty radical. I can't really write lemon so... yeah, sorry if that's what you were expecting. But I guess, here you go for now; all aboard the one-way bullet train to yaoiland, mothercluckers. (Saying that because I got in trouble for saying it on a bus about a week ago.)  
**

**Ah, and to Darth Zannah, because I don't feel like writing a PM and it's not like I could anyways because it's disabled or whatever: Thanks, I'm pleased that you like it. I'm glad to know that I'm devoting all of my literary potential and much-needed time to be lurking about on the internet and posting homosexual fanfiction for unknown and anonymous identities to observe. That really means a lot to me as an author, you guys.**

**(I'm just joking; thanks, you're awesome. Also, I am most defiantly NOT homophobic- though I am actually heterosexual- and I have some very dear acquaintances of mine that are homosexual, and they are all absolutely darling.)**

**Yeah, I know what you meant.**

* * *

Glowing beams of sunlight filtered through the white, drawn shades on the side of the room, streaming in quickly, and much too soon. Mornings were never really either of the two's favorites, and in fact, it appeared that nighttime was quickly turned in their favor at this point.

Stretching his arm across the white- and now dirtied- sheets and over Izaya, Shizuo groaned, not wishing to awaken so early. Rolling slightly underneath the taller man, the brunet yawned, snuggling childishly into the fake-blond's bare chest. Twisting his legs between the taller partner's, he buried his entire face in the crook of his neck and purred. Neither of them had to be anywhere today- seeing as Izaya was his own boss, and Shizuo had requested the day off from Tom for 'stress relief' in which he gladly allowed without question- nor did they intend on planning for it. Besides, if either had any indication that recent events were required to have been explained, then they had some queries to be answered.

If anything, the couple actually wanted to find out what was going on with them and their relationship; they wanted to know if what they had was lust and anger or maybe... love. The latter seemed to be the most appropriate to describe the two at the time, but there's always something about the things we cannot have that make you exclusively want them all the more.

"Ugghhh," Izaya moaned, light pouring in and reflecting off of his crimson eyes, "My ass hurts like hell; thanks a lot Shizu-chan..."

"Just take it, flea," Shizuo grunted, face still pressed into the pillow and muffled just a bit, "You didn't seem to be complaining last night."

Face flushing, the raven pouted, laying sideways to face the so-called 'beast of Ikebukuro' with his arms crossed and muttering a small 'hmph!'. Glaring menacingly- albeit rather childishly- at the tired face of the taller man, he stuck out his tongue. Shizuo turned his head, smirking coyly and craning his neck out to take it in his own mouth. Proven in the previous night, Izaya didn't seem to be a match for Shizuo's immense strength, and there was really no use in attempting to achieve dominance. Sighing inwardly, he allowed himself to be devoured by the older one, tangling his arms through the blond-dyed hair the said man.

Indolently letting his hands wander wherever they pleased, Shizuo's grin remained unchanged as he completely dominated Izaya. He supposed he would be a bit tired- not to mention sore- after last night, so he assumed that he was free to do as he wished for the time being. I mean, why not violate your sadistic, cocky, smartass boyfriend when he was incapacitated? Shizuo sure saw no harm in doing so.

Ensuing this for the next long while, they broke apart reluctantly, foreheads pressed against each others. The glint in their gaze wasn't exactly hatred and lust anymore, but filled with blameless longing and caring for one another. Both of them couldn't help but wonder whether or not someone else besides them had ever been around the other to see this side of them before, sparking just a flicker of jealousy that faded away once they brought themselves back into reality.

"Hey, Shizuo," Izaya asked quietly, still enveloped in the warm embrace of his significant other, "What are we?"

Pausing cautiously before he answered, Shizuo inhaled a silent breath and thought for a moment.

"I... I don't really know, actually." He admitted.

Stirring in the cold silence echoing through the bedroom, they thought. What were they, really? We they dating? Were they friends with benefits? Were they enemies with benefits? Neither knew, but what they did know is that they were completely willing to find out.

"Are we, like," Izaya bit his lip, "A couple?"

"I guess so, huh?" The ex-bartender answered, "Never thought this'd happen, huh?"

With a small chuckle, Shizuo bent his neck down just a bit and planted a quick kiss on Izaya's forehead. So maybe they were a couple now, it was ironic, but expected, in its own way. Still though, it was nice to know that they had something that wasn't just sex, but a relationship.

The cycle had been broken, but fixed with something other than loathe; maybe it was love after all?

* * *

Lying idly on his own bed, Izaya sprawled his body out and stared at the ceiling thoughtlessly. He had traveled back to his own apartment after his little 'encounter', and drawn the shades to stare at the walls of the shady room. He hadn't called Namie in today, and had sent her a text to take a payed-day off until further notice. The raven had some thinking to do.

For every passing hour, he lay silently on silk, charcoal-colored sheets without sleeping, just staring. Raising an arm towards the sky, he waved his hand along the air slowly, dragging it softly across it, and tracing the shadows just as if he and they were just old friends.

Were they really a couple now? It seemed so surreal, but he knew he wasn't dreaming, for the bothersome soreness of his rear-end confirmed that it was very real indeed.

Night came soon enough, and the unmoving information-broker still remained still. Dropping his arm at his waist, he sighed and closed his eyes. Every single little voice in his mind was telling him to sleep, or to relax, but he found that he just could not. Why would he need to? Maybe tomorrow may prove to be good for something, but there was always that chance that it wouldn't be anyways.

He bit his lip and growled slightly in frustration.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he placed his head haphazardly into the palms of his thin, pale hands. Izaya honestly had no desire to endure a breakdown right then. He didn't even know why he was feeling this way, save for the nagging in his head that he still needed questions to be answered.

"I'm not crazy," The brunet reassured himself, speaking to no one in particular, "I'm just a little... unwell, at the moment."

Yes, that would have to do for now. He was just feeling under the weather, merely a bit unwell.

That was all, right?

* * *

Walking had never seemed to appeal to the bodyguard, but for some reason, Shizuo always found himself doing it. Wandering aimlessly through the nighttime streets of Ikebukuro, he lit a cigarette lazily and stepped aboard a random train at one of the countless stations to take him somewhere, anywhere in fact. Handing a crumpled bill to the driver and leaning against one of the metal poles, he sighed, snuffing out his cigarette and getting rid of it promptly.

"So what is going on with... _us_ right now?" He muttered, unaware he was speaking aloud. "What are we doing? How did this happen? And now... what are we supposed to do about it-?"

Someone aboard the transportation vehicle cleared their throat loudly, causing Shizuo to realize what he'd been doing. His face burning slightly with embarrassment before fading out, he looked at the ground and sighed again. He looked around for a moment, scanning the other passengers and people on the train absently. Catching a few stares, he scowled, walking quickly away when the vehicle had stopped, trying his hardest to dodge the glances thrown his way on his escape.

Shizuo knew that people talked about him, of course they did. He was a monster, after all. It's not like he _wanted_ to hurt anyone but... it just seemed to happen. Nevertheless, knowing and hearing were two very, very different things. Thinking about it just made him feel sadistic, but hearing it from others made him rather upset. If only they knew how much it hurt, being talked about like that.

With every whisper he heard, it made him think that there must be something wrong with him.

Trailing back to his apartment, he sat exasperatedly on his couch- not wanting to use his bed at the time, afraid that it may make him over think a few things- and contemplated everything that had happened to him. Shizuo didn't want to believe that out of all the hours he spent thinking about his life, that he had finally lost his mind.

"No," He argued, speaking to no one but an empty apartment, "I'm not crazy, I'm just a little... impaired, I guess..."

That would work for then, or at least until he got this figured out completely. He was just a bit impaired, ever since- well, ever.

That was it, right?

* * *

Unable to sleep, both- unaware of the other- had traveled out of their homes a while after the midnight hour, reaching a quiet destination of some random park near a sort of educational building. Pondering previous events didn't seem to do any good at the time, so sometimes, not thinking at all can help one blow off some steam.

Seeing each other, but avoiding eye-contact, they sat near each other on the steps of the building, not daring to utter a single word for a while. So they did something that anyone might have done; they waited.

And waited.

And waited until neither could stand the silence any longer.

"Hello, Shizu-chan." Izaya mumbled.

"Hey, Izaya." Shizuo nodded, looking away and pocketing his tinted sunglasses in his breast pocket, "Look, about last night, I-"

"No, you don't need to say anything about it..." The raven stopped him mid-sentence, giving him a small smile.

Neither of them seemed to think that the other could tell what they were feeling, and both also seemed to be wrong. Izaya knew that Shizuo felt like he was a monster, that he was upset because he felt neglected and scared that he would only destroy the things he loved on accident. Shizuo knew that Izaya felt like he was a bastard, and that he was upset and scared that he felt abandoned by the ones he thought actually loved him and afraid that me might abandon him, too.

"Well," Shizuo scratched the back of his head awkwardly and beginning to stand, "Maybe I should just go now..."

"No." Izaya stopped him, grabbing his hand, and biting his lip, looking away, "Stay here, with me."

The fake-blond sat down again, grasping the raven's hand in his own and remaining quiet. This felt odd to them; it was so different than it usually would have been before any of this had happened. They didn't want to say this out loud, but they really did hope that the other cared about them. And still, their thought kept bringing them back to how it used to be with each other.

In fact, they were pretty sure that if they kept all of their personal insanity locked up like this, they would lose it and been taken away for psychological rehabilitation or the like.

But no, they refused to believe that they were crazy, or impaired for that matter. And as long as the other knew that, then they wouldn't care what any one else- including their own self- thought about it.

"Thank you, Shizu-chan." Izaya smiled, placing his head softly on the taller man's broad shoulder. He wasn't one for being dependent, but this time, he would allow it.

Shizuo turned, kissing the smaller man chastely and smiling back.

"Don't thank me," He mumbled, "I should be the one thanking you, ya' know."

Meeting the fake-blonds' lips again, the black-haired information-broker graced his features with the sweetest of grins and kissed him. Even if they didn't pursue 'other' not so innocent activities that night, it was good enough for them to be near each other like this. There was no fighting, no crowds, just them alone.

Maybe it was worth being crazy, as long as there was someone else doing it with them for that moment.

* * *

**I wrote this while listening to the song Unwell by Matchbox Twenty, if you haven't already caught that.  
**

**So I'm actually not sure if I should end this here or keep going and add more plot, but I'd like to hear what you guys' think, if you'd be cool enough to help me out here. This is kind of an early and spontaneous update, and it's really long, but- again- I'm still not positive on what's going on with this afterwards, so yeah... Thanks for reading, and as always, reviews are widely appreciated, but not mandatory.**

**-XxReddShadowxX**


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